The Longest Fall
by DarthTofu
Summary: A fairly dramatic, and I hope deep story. Read and review. Also, i have a vote going on that will be over in july, so now if your chance to read and vote As in, to review. Heck, I'll even take flames, I'm that desperate!
1. Prologue

The Longest Fall

Introduction: It was the best of times; it was the worst of times…

Vise Dyne sat in his chair, his fingers slowly tracing the new pink flesh on his left cheek. Old scar tissue had been removed, leaving him with new, healthy skin where it had once been. Gone were the days of the air pirates, and gone were the days of scars showing strength and symbolism. His had to be removed; for fear that it would make the many voters in Valua tilt in favor of opposing candidates.

_It is all_, Vise thought in disgust, _politics these days. Gone are the times when life was to stay alive as long as you could. Gone are the days when an enemy fired a cannon at you. _

Nowadays it was simply politics. He could no longer do as he pleased, and when he tried to help the people, he was opposed.

Ever since being named Emperor of Valua after his close friend Enrique had been killed by an activist of the older days of Valua, Vise now had to fight the people he was meant to serve. They demanded better healthcare and protection in one breath, and with that same breath demanded that their taxes remain low, or else he was a tyrant. And he had better not go dipping into the treasury for these sorts of things! That was for future Emperors after he stepped down. It wasn't his place to draw from that.

Sighing at the constant problems of his month-old rule, Vise stood up from the overly garnished throne he sat on and ran his fingers through the recently clipped brown hair he wore, feeling the strange sensation, as his hand never touched the glass eye patch he had once worn; didn't contact his hair until two and a half inches after they should have.

Life was different, now. He was in a position of power he had never wanted, ruling now not just Valua, but also all of Arcadia, now. In a sense.

Valua, being home to the greatest engineers and workers of raw metals was the chief provider of ships for this New World. People needed food to survive, and fish was the main source of that food. So now Valua's massive shipyards that had once produced war machines to annihilate all who opposed them.

Now those same shipyards were being used to feed the world, a major export, and a huge source of income with the giant converted warships that now captured literally thousands of fish a day.

It was a brighter future, but one Vise knew could not last. At the rate the fish were harvested, there wouldn't be any left in another three years. And Vise wouldn't remain in charge for much longer. Much less alive, if he followed in Enrique's footsteps. The man had been born into royalty, and knew his politics fully. People were happier under his rule, and fewer arguments of a greater magnitude had a broken out. And yet extremists had killed him.

They had taken a man whom Vise had seen do nothing but good, and killed him after a few short months in office, because he was not their lord Galcien who had perished. Because he was not the dead Lord Ramirez. Because he was a traitor to all of Valua in their eyes. Their actions hadn't been thought through properly, and had ended up sending the nation that they so loved into several months of Civil unrest as the people of it fought over a new leader, leaving those still in the under works to starve to death.

Vise shook his head hard, sending his reflections aside. No, this world could not last, but perhaps people would listen to him eventually. A gauntleted hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around in surprise, a sloppy, but-not-quite-forgotten fighting stance coming to his limbs.

"Sir," the soldier said, by now getting rather used to his new leader's sudden reactions. In the days of Galcien and Ramirez when he had served, being a messenger was one of the more dangerous jobs out there. You came in bearing a letter or some tidbit of information, and preyed that they found it acceptable, or even pleasing. Because with the might of Valua behind the lords, they needn't worry about killing the messenger.

Nowadays was different. With the rains of destruction having poured down on Valua, hundreds, if not thousands had been lost to the torrential meteors. People couldn't afford to be killed, and the latter two rulers of Valua had never been known for unnecessary violence anyway.

"Sorry," Vise said, lowering his limbs from their fighting stance and blushing slightly. "What is it, Herand?" he asked the soldier, recognizing the dark widow's peak on his forehead, the sunken in black eyes in his skull, and the slightly crooked nose that had been caused by an air pirate encounter with blue rogues, nonetheless.

Having done away with the old pointed masks that had been worn by Valuan militia had been an improvement, and just about everyone in the party agreed. The basic armor had been kept the same, the usual full-body gray suit of metal. On the face were now worn slightly less effective, but largely improved clear riot shields, held in place by a black elastic band. It increased the visibility that the predecessors of the helmet had blocked, and allowed for the soldiers to remove the masks when they weren't needed, keeping them from becoming over-heated as quickly in the metal.

Herand snapped his arm up in a crisp salute, his dark eyes focused straight ahead as he waited for his leader to return the salute. Vise sighed, and did so. "This is probably the eighth time I've told you you don't need to salute me when you come in these chambers. I'm not the egocentric leader you used to have."

"Yes sir," Herand said, keeping his posture ridged

"Now then, what is it?" Vise repeated, starting to grow more than a little impatient.

"First Grand Admiral Aika reports that the Yafutoman confederation is here to discuss the sky fishing being performed under the blue moon, and to request that it be stopped. First Admiral Aika would like to know if she should let them land or blow them out of the sky."

Vise smiled. That certainly sounded like the air pirate he had grown up with, constantly annoyed by pushier upper-class citizens.

"Tell her to let them land, but not with more than one or two support ships. We don't want to make the mistake made by Enrique, now do we?"

The soldier winced at the mention, having been present when the falsified ship "Errant Venture" had been supposedly returning from a trip to Nassar. It had been loaded with eight assassins who had been capable of defeating the lord of Valua despite Herand's best efforts, an his success in killing one of them before a blast knocked him out of the fight.

"Oh, yes," Vise said, adding another detail, smiling grimly. "Tell her to make sure the guns on the wall are armed.

Herand nodded, heading down the hall. "Yes, sir." It was a perfect world that they lived in, and yet a terrible one. It was an age of prosperity that they knew would lead to one of despair. It was like Esperanza, the city of hope. A forgotten shell of rust and bones, with an oxymoronic name.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It was the age of happiness; it was the age of despair- A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.

A/n Here's hoping you all liked that. I'm new to fan fiction, and will be atrocious in my habits of sending this stuff in, as well as spelling of the character's names. Oh, and even though you already knew it, I have no hold to SOA or Sega or anything. Honest. I don't even own the game or a dream cast. Heck, I haven't even seen how the game ends.


	2. In the Beginning

Chapter One: In the beginning there was…

Herand had long been a loyal servant to Valua. To the country, and not to the leaders, per se. He knew which ones had brought the people happiness, and which ones had brought them despair, hopelessness. He had come from the under works, working hard to rid himself of the godforsaken sewers and those damned hounds.

He had slowly risen to power, training himself with the weapons of skeletons, wearing armor he had cobbled together from dead bodies after he washed it.

His only goal in life had been to get free of the under works at the time. Possibly to serve the leader at the time, King Hazzen, or perhaps the now-rapidly-rising-in-power Queen Teodora.

His first step in getting out of the sewers would be to get away from them physically and mentally. It wouldn't do for a Valuan soldier to go about smelling like hound sweat and rubbish. It also wouldn't do for him to employ the unorthodox fighting he had long used, nor would it do for him not to have a good, complete set of armor, regardless of whether or not he could fight better in his other set.

He had gone out into the rich district, working hard to keep the disgust from his face, and posed as a loyal Valuan officer, giving crisp salutes any time an officer of any rank came by. He was training himself, working hard to achieve his dream of leaving this rock. He failed several times, and had been fined hundreds of pieces of gold for impersonating an officer. Eventually, though, he had finally approached the academy. The place where legends were born.

Under Hazzen's rule, it wasn't as it was in Teodora's, or Galcien's, nor as it was in Vyse's. There were hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers there at the time, and they were treated as people. They trained with weapons that were battered, beaten, and in some cases slightly painful to the wielder, but they were kept in good repair, and in good effectiveness.

Herand remembered his instructor's first words to him when he had gone up in combat against another student. "Damn, son, don't kill him!"

It had been meant in a sense to calm him, to keep him from beating the younger new recruit to a pulp, and it had worked. He took it as a compliment and stopped at once, pride swelling in him. That had been the first of many compliments, both meant and misinterpreted.

Herand had shown skill and talent, but not enough field time for some. He seemed to portray the wrong image for others. Especially the one time admiral Alfanso, though he had been but a captain at the time. A captain with a big mouth and enough favors to call in to give him the rank.

"We can not have our military represented by cut-throat ruffians! Why, look at him! He might as well be a pirate for all the scars he bears, as well as his rags." the captain's face flashed before Herand's eyes, shaking it's head. "No, we have plenty of officers. Send him off to find some nice sludge pool to play in."

Herand had fought hard against that image, and with Alfanso being as hated as he was, his opinion was counted in such a way that it actually helped him. Herand managed to complete his basic training, but wasn't aloud, to his dismay, on a ship. Alfanso's opinion, though not weighing much, had weighed just enough to keep him from getting away from Valua, where he wouldn't be under a scrutinizing eye.

He was assigned to the recruitment area, helping to bring in new people from all over Valua, particularly the rich section and upper-class citizens. He did fairly well at the job, in the sense that he brought in good fighters from the under levels and waist works, those who hadn't grown up attending the theater and talking with good company over a banquet, but those who had grown up fighting anything that came at them with any weapon they could get, whether it be hand, or blade, whether they wore armor or skin.

They were true fighters and served well. But as all things were in the organization, when people noticed you were doing well in your assigned task, they promoted you. That is to say, they gave a little piece of metal to pin on your shirt and sent you off to a completely unrelated task. In this case, Herand became an instructor, at the exact same day as when Teodora took power over Valua, implementing immediate changed everywhere.

The first thing she changed was the training area. Before, weapons experts shot off sensor packages, which didn't break very often, but cost a good deal of money to make and repair. She realized that if her officers simply used regular ammunition and rounds, in a year they would have saved all of one hundred pieces of gold. Ironically enough, because of the new change, twenty people died, while another thirty received serious injuries to the point where they could never be soldiers. It became widely muttered in the ranks that a life was worth but two pieces of gold to the empress.

Eventually Herand was recognized again, Alfanso now far off, searching for someone being whispered as the white lady, said to be of the silver moon. He was given his wish, and finally taken off of Valua as a soldier on one of the thousands of magic ships that sailed the skies of Arcadia.

Herand was fortunate, having been among the many who invaded Yafutoma, he and the _Errant Flame _as the magic ship was called had been shot down. Plummeting toward deep sky with malfunctioning or dead engines, he had managed to hotwire the engines to crash land them onto a floating rock after the bridge took a missile directly through the glass, killing the captain.

Herand, several engineers, and a single troop of soldiers were the only survives out of a crew of thirty-six. The crew barely managed to hobble the ship onto the mainland of Yafutoma before it came apart, never to fly again. Herand and his crew were forced to deal with a ship full of Blue Rogues to make it back to Valua, prepared to face shame for defeat and loss of life, but were surprised to see that Valua no longer stood proud and confident- rather it was now a smoking, bleeding piece of hell.

Standing amidst the wreckage was Galcien, preaching of the wrongs done by Teodora, perished, to remembered, and to be scorned, issuing promise after promise of greatness for them all. Thus began the Galcien era.

Still walking, Herand was jolted into shock reality as a wall came to meet him, his eyes glazed over in memories. Feeling foolish, he straightened his posture, looked around, was relieved to see no one around, and headed out towards the communications area again.

"Tell Admiral Red-Head to let them through," he said to the comm. Officer, using the widely used nickname for the Admiral. "Only one ship, though. To put it as he did, no secondary mess-ups".

The officer nodded. No mess-ups. But now mess-ups were affordable. They weren't at war, and their leader understood if there was a mistake. There was peace, for however brief a time.


	3. Admiral Redhead

First Grand Admiral Aika glanced down in distaste at her uniform for the third time in as many minutes, still as disgusted with it as the day she put it on. It was pure white, with yellow pauldron lacework. Aside from that, there was no color, save for the sharp contrast of her brightly colored hair and face at the top of it.

Another factor that she hated was the high choler. It seemed to have been designed in a torture room to strangle its victims, or at the very least to chaff their neck until they died of blood loss.

Still contemplating everything wrong with the stupid uniform, she almost didn't hear the sharp and incentive beeping noise from communications equipment by her face. Turning, she faced a flat screen and a camera, teleconferencing back to interior of Valua.

"Lord Dyne has appointed that you are not to harm the Yafutoman ships, and that you are to let only one through the wall.

"Thank you," Aika said, her voice laced with boredom. "Anything else? Or do I just sit around and play 'I spy' with myself for another afternoon?"

"Nothing else, ma'am," The officer on the other end said. Nothing else indeed. How wrong he would find he was.

A/n Okay, I know that the actual game never featured cameras or teleconferencing, or any of that stuff, but if they can build flying ships and energy cannons, it would be kind of sad if they weren't capable of building cameras and TVs. Heck, why am I explaining this short chapter? ONLY TWO PEOPLE READ THIS STORY! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW OR DIE!


	4. Negotiations

A/n Thank you, Desert Lynx, for the reviewing. I praise you for it. Thank you also to Michael A Stackpole, writer of the "Star Wars (Trade Mark) X-wing Rogue Squadron" series for providing me with the name Ysanne Isard (Yiz-A ne Izard) and the sinister description of her.

"Thank you for taking the time to see us, King Dyne," the Yafutoman senator said smoothly. "This is a matter of rather high concern to us… And possibly you."

Now his voice was sounding slightly menacing. Beside Yafutoman delegate Suwong, stood a woman who would have been quite pretty were it not for her, eyes, one burning red, hotter than Nasser, the other a frigid blue, colder than the purple moon.

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Suwong, and Miss…?"

"Isard," the woman replied. ""Ysanne, Isard."

"Miss Isard, then. And I regret to inform you that, ah, you will have to remove any… Accessories from your eyes so that we may get a clear retinal scan of you upon entrance to the palace. It's standard security protocol."

Isard looked surprised when Vyse spoke of security. "Mr. Dyne," she said, abandoning the title of King and allowing an odd mixture of amusement and contempt to seep into her voice, "Shouldn't one of the guards be telling me this? Isn't it a little low and… unbecoming for a king?"

Vyse nodded, smiling. "For a king, yes, but for an Air Pirate, never. My father taught me you could never be too safe, and that when a professional did a job it was good- but when you double-checked him, it was better. So may I please have anything you may be… carrying in your eyes?"

"I assure you," Isard said, her voice becoming as frosty as her eye, "These are my _natural _eyes."

"Interesting as idle parley is," Suwong said, looking away from the artfully carved marble statue in the Foreign Quarters and Embassy Hanger, "I believe we have business to get to?"

"I wouldn't know," Vyse said, his tone polite enough that he couldn't be reprimanded for mocking, but still retaining an air of mockery. "You were the one that addressed me for this meeting. For all I know, you might have merely wished to exchange words with someone whom I was close to."

"It's rather odd that you have brought that matter up, Dyne. As a matter of-" Isard elbowed Suwong in the ribs in a matter that was almost, but not quite invisible. Vyse cataloged the occurrence away in the back of his mind.

Noticing that Vyse had seen her movement, Isard provided a smile that didn't reach her eyes, only making her look more sinister, like some twisted goddess of war. "My client precedes himself," she recovered flawlessly. "What we have come to discuss on this visit is the matters concerning the sky fishing in Yafutoma."

"Then perhaps we had best discuss this where we might sit down?"

"That would be rather nice," Isard said, turning away from the retinal scanner to face Vyse.

The trio walked in silence for a time, finally coming to rest at a conference room.

"Now then. As I have said already," Suwong began, taking up what he had already said in the foreign quarters, "We must discuss the matter of the sky fishing in Yafutoma."

Vyse replied. "As I recall, an agreement had been reached with former leader Enrique at one point. One regarding a trade of manufactured goods to the Yafutomans."

"That agreement has ended it's use to us," Suwong spoke, anger seething in his voice. "It is merely a ploy by you, giving us small luxuries, throwing the scales of our own fish to us to eat while you feast before our eye, taking our country's gifts. We refuse to stand by and watch such an indignant," he seemed to struggle, as though searching for the right words, all the while his face becoming redder and redder.

"Agreement? Treaty?" Vyse offered.

"RAPE!" Suwong finished, shouting the final word. "Yes, it is a rape of our country! We will not stand by and watch this! If you do not withdraw your fleets from our country's skies, we will be forced to declare war!"

As he screamed, guards entered the room, standing with weapons primed, aimed, sharpened, and at the ready.

"You will be now be silent," Isard said quietly and calmly. "You have blotched such communications enough for the time being."

Seeing the situation was under control, the guards left, returning to their posts.

"We would prefer, as my client has chosen to so artfully put it, that you end the sky fishing in our area." Isard said, her voice still quiet and calm, yet this time conveying a type of power and lust, one to make men succumb to her odd charm and cringe at an awesome power that she seemed to house.

"I'm afraid that would be rather difficult to perform," Vyse said, keeping his tone calm and diplomatic, a conscience effort that was driving him crazy. He had to keep from calling upon his desire to get up and hit the woman full across the face.

He could tell that she was a politician, or had once been. She had a sense of the ways to talk, the knowledge of how to have such things done, and a totally impossible goal to achieve that would ultimately result in both sides being far worse off than they currently were. Three key symbols of a politician.

If the Valuans were to lose the much needed sky fish from the skies above Yafutoma- everyone- not just the rich, not just the poor, everyone in Valua would suffer. With a shortage of fish, prices would soar up and beyond what they already were at, rather exuberant ones. Famine would strike, people would starve, and the Yafutomans would be left with not nearly so many buyers, and a loss of textile goods that they were capable of making by hand, but not by the industrial methods of the Valuans. Their technological advances would be slowed down, their armor that the Valuans were providing would be of poorer quality- it spelled disaster, plain and simple, and yet Isard desperately wanted to get rid of the Valuan fishing ships.

"When you say that it will be difficult, what you truly mean is that you will attempt to hide behind such a ploy for as long as possible before you step down from your seat of power and let another rule in your place. You, Dyne, are unfit for command." Isard was now rising, her eyes burning and freezing him, leaving gaping holes in his innards, or so it felt.

"You know, it's quite odd. I was under the impression that Mr. Suwong was the Yafutoman ambassador, and that you were merely an aid to him. And in answer to your remark, that is not my plan. Please tell me first what you would like to have happen, then I will tell you what the probably results are if I carry that plan out, and perhaps we can reach a compromise."

"You already know what we want," Suwong spoke; breaking the silence he had been in since Isard became angry with him. "We want your fishing vessels gone from Yafutoman air! We want the withdrawal of-"

"SILENCE!" Isard yelled, venom in her voice, fire and ice in her stare. "You are a fool and do not deserve your position. I showed you light, and you will do well to take all of my advice, not just that which you enjoy hearing!"

The guards once again opened the door to check and see if their king was in danger, saw that only the ambassador was, and shut the door.

She turned back to Vyse, not attempting to make up for all she had said to the ambassador. The fire stayed in her glare as she turned it on Vyse.

"When last I heard, aids did not silence superiors in such fashions in _any _part of Arcadia," Vyse said, arching an eyebrow at the woman. "As I have already said, we may well be able reach a compromise, but I would prefer to see, in writing from the Yafutoman ruler, something to convey proof that this treaty is not something hated by just two people, but by all of Yafutoma."

Isard sighed. "Now is, apparently, the time to give some information away. You will withdraw your ships from our nation, and you will get a piece of knowledge quite dear to you, I believe."

_So, _Vyse thought, _Apparently I have two extremists that can pull enough strings to bring Yafutoman war ships with the Valua that are trying either to start a war or end our sky fishing. It _is _a legitimate concern, but they might have other methods of dealing with the over-fishing. Methods such as the war to make sure that there are fewer mouths to feed and more fish to feed them._

"What exactly is this information?" Vyse asked, prepared to simply have them arrested for… well, they technically had done nothing wrong, merely expressed a desire, but had threatened war on their whole country's behalf. There was probably some law somewhere against that. He'd just have to look it up.

"We know," Isard said, her voice becoming one of malicious delight, "who killed Enrique. We can help you bring them to justice."

A/n… again. Well, so endeth my chapter, so begginith Vyse's madness. Will Vyse keep his sanity? Will he ever find out who killed Enrique? Will Suwong and Isard lead Yafutoma to war? Find out next week, month, or year on another exciting chapter of: The Longest Fall!


	5. The Innocent

Herrand was making his rounds throughout the palace of Valua, taking particular note of where the foreigners had walked, looked, and even breathed. He kept a close eye on each of these places and swept them with scanners, searching for anything that they may have rigged to listen, sabotage… or destroy.

After the terrorists struck, after they had killed Dyne's predecessor, Enrique, it had sent a message out. The people were no longer safe. People were told that they could die in the streets if the ruler of Valua could be killed. People knew of the danger. They knew that it surrounded them, and so they prayed that they would never be targets, and they weren't. Or, at least, not yet.

Each one of the areas checked, he glanced at the magnificent clock suspended between two pillars. Two miniature ships made up the hands, with a skull backed by swords in the center, masking the points where the hands met the middle. It had been a symbol of a pirate leading the people now, and read in the language of each continent in Arcadia "Beware- the King can fight as well". The clock displayed that it was currently 1300, and time for his replacement to arrive on the simple pacing duties while he got his meal break.

Turning around, he lifted the plastic facemask, which had begun to fog with breath. He started, noticing that he mask only fogged if he began to breath heavily, something that seemed to plague him alone, else the face masks would have been decommissioned long ago.

It was a sign of bad luck with Herrand, though. It had happened at Enrique's attack. It had happened when he had fallen and snapped his leg in an awkward hole… And it was happening now.

Herrand shook his head forcefully. It _wasn't_ an omen. The mask had fogged before, and nothing had happened. Nothing at all…

He was still wrestling with the idea when, Kormiic, his replacement, arrived. Herrand didn't feel hungry, and his stomach was churning enough that he didn't think he would have kept anything down if he had tried. Instead, he simply headed to his thinking spot, atop the wall of Valua. The wall had held back armies of ships, had helped keep countless smugglers and pirates out, and had been the first test sight of the moonstone cannon on the Delphanous. The wall had a historical significance, and sometimes when he went to think there, Herrand thought that he could hear the voices of countless others from times long past giving him council in his hectic struggles, being experienced in the matter.

And so, Herrand still wrestled with the feeling in his gut when the first shot was fired, and something else entered his gut, that was decidedly not an emotion.

A/n: And you all thought that was just going to be one of those boring chapters where I get to a huge climactic scene and then don't do anything! See, I took us to _another _huge climactic scene- one which I can choose to continue, or simply leave there until I get a certain number of reviews! BWAHAHAHA! So yeah, R and R.


	6. Fire in the Sky

Red, yellow, and blue. All three of the primary colors were represented in full. Overhead, the sky dazzled blue. In a lower portion of the sky, Valuan ships showed their flags bearing the yellow moon. And all over the ground, rested red blood. The crimson color dazzled as it poured down the wall, as fires erupted, and as slivers of stone went flying into people, driving organs from their bodies, brains from their heads.

Herrand observed it all through a growing haze of darkness. He was Herrand. He was born in the sewers, he had become an officer, and he had seen the skies, and even foreign continents thought to be long gone. He had watched powers struggle, rise, fall, conquer, and be revolted upon. He was Herrand. He had seen terrible things, he had seen wonderful things. He had seen the world. And so, as blood poured out of his gut, flowing into a steady river to join and mingle with the blood of countless others, as the darkness thickened, and as oblivion seemed to claim him, he was content with his life. Not happy, per se, but content. The darkness closed in.

"This is Isard."

Captain Palleon turned to face the voice. "Yes, Admiral?" he said, his voice calm and clear.

"Execute order number three."

Palleon snapped to attention, his military posture straightened all that much more.

"With all due respect, ma'am, that's suicide."

Isard sighed n the other end of the small video communication, dropping her head and causing the image to pixilated from the lack of the camera's ability to cope in the live transmission.

"Captain, that's the point. You and your crew will all be unharmed. I assure you of that."

"Yet again, with all due respect, ma'am, no you can't. For all we know, they _could _have installed the technology we gave them back in the early days and experimented with it to the point where they can follow us."

"Just do it, Palleon. They merely followed instructions. The Valuan engineering revolves around building a bigger, better gun, and allowing them to withstand their own guns."

"All the more reason that this could blow up in our faces!" Palleon argued. "They built better guns, and they knew of our former technology. What if they managed to find ways of increasing the angles at which their guns shoot? They could easily blow us from the sky."

Silence ensued as instruments beeped, whistled and buzzed in their usual annoying ways. One of those beeps seemed slightly out of pitch with them all, but then, who could tell these days?

"So, Miss, Isard, have you decided to listen to my request, or-" Palleon's words failed to form as his vocal chords, trachea, and esophagus were slit from behind. Hands flew to weapons before they noticed that the killer of Palleon was merely Thrawn, third in command, and loyal to Isard.

Isard approved on the other end of the communication of Thrawn's actions. The small beeper he had planted on him had beeped in a different pitch than any of the other instruments. Thrawn, being of perfect pitch like all of Isard's assassin officers, had heard the beep that the apparently tone deaf crew had not heard, responding to it and killing Palleon without the captain even noticing. Thrawn sheathed the dagger and came to attention before the small screen that Isard's features came from.

"Rather poor judgment, questioning my orders like that," Isard said as idly as if she had simply witnessed Thrawn smacking an annoying fly.

Thrawn continued to stand at attention at the viewing post; apparently eager for the swift promotions that came about in all manners of drama books in which people were ruthlessly killed.

"That is all I need from you, Thrawn. Continue to serve at your post and get Miss Dala. She will be in command of this task force from this point forward, apparently…"

_We know who killed Enrique. We can help you bring him to justice._

_What are you talking about? They were Valuans! They were extremists who-_

_They were not, Dyne. They were from- Well, we can't very well tell you that until our demands are met._

_And what, Miss Isard, are those demands?_

_Nothing unreasonable. Merely the withdrawal of all Valuan ships from Yafutoman airspace. As my… client, so eloquently put it previously._

_As I've told you before, that isn't possible. It would cause death to both our peoples, ours more so, obviously, but this is a mutual benefit. I can't do that. I'm not going to stake an entire nation on one man, to bring others to justice._

_Ah, but you should._

_And why is that?_

_I also know the next target. I don't think it would be enjoyable for you._

_Miss Isard, you and Ambassador Suwong are hereby under arrest._

_On what charges, if I may ask, sir dictator?_

_You are withholding information that could benefit this nation deliberately, and given that you have claimed extensive knowledge of this incident, I can also put you up on charges of having been in a conspiracy of murder in the first degree._

_If you carry this out, my information goes with me to the grave._

_We'll see about that._

_Yes. We will._

James Jade, JJ as he was often called, had come to Valua to see the beautiful famed spires with his family. He, his wife Karma, and their two children, Shishima and Zansubi had come to Valua on a sightseeing tour, hoping to see the famed new spires in Valua. JJ grinned, nudged Zansubi in the ribs and indicated a pedestal covered in what looked like rubble, but was actually art.

"That," he said, still pointing, "Is where statues of all of Valua's rulers were erected, and then smashed by the successor to make way for their own. With the new leadership here, that tradition was done away with, so that rubble shows the fall of a bad tradition."

"Wowee, Dad," Zansubi said with a complete lack of interest. "It's _another _statue. Are we having fun yet?"

JJ frowned. "Hey, you better start enjoying yourself, here, do you know how much this-"

"Trip cost?" Zansubi said, already having anticipated his father's words. "Over five hundred in good gold. I could have gone out and spent that all on a nicer ship, a nice vacation for just me, but no, I went out and dragged all of you along so that we could enjoy this as a family. And now what are you doing? Just sitting there and sulking!" The boy must have heard the speech at least fifty times from his father on the trip already, and already had it memorized.

"Listen up. You had _better _start enjoying yourself, or I'm going to-"

Exactly what James Jade was going to do was lost as he and his son were incinerated in an intense beam of light, no longer anything more than a dark spot on the ground.

Karma and Shishima cried out in horror and shock, running towards the spot where their family had been when another, more powerful blast hit the area directly behind them, sending large pieces of stone away in all directions at dizzying speed. As the women ran the stone pierced them, and all of a sudden their internal organs were failing to live up to their names.

A/n: Alright, I stole a lot of names from a lot of places. Timothy Zhan, I apologize if you ever read this (And if you do, could you get your other author buddies to check it out and review? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeee?) So, yeah, anyways, I stole the names of Palleon and Thrawn from him… Even though Palleon was an Admiral while Thrawn was the only alien grand admiral. Next up (glances at list) I stole Miss Dala's name from, yet again, Michael A. Stackpole and Bantam Books (trademark), which is a licensed part of Lucasfilm LTD (registered Trademark). This chapter is kind of confusing, so I'll explain what happened- this is all the elements of time unstuck, something I'm planning to do throughout the story (If it gets way too confusing, tell me and I'll quit it). Anyway, the italicized conversation without any quotation marks was meant to symbolize the reason for all of the things that happened in there, being most important element in that time frame. But don't worry; I'll put that in only the beginnings of big action sequences. It's going to be my trademark thing, sort of like the black and white images at the beginning and end of NCIS (if you know what I'm talking about). This should really all be in a bunch of paragraphs, but I don't care. So yeah, there's the new chapter, a lot earlier than I thought it would be, but I felt like writing it, so I did. What to expect in the next chapter- a bunch of tactical technobable in Naval warfare- Admiral Redhead strikes back. I'm not sure about what I'm going to do in it, but I'll put this to a vote for three weeks- either Aika dies but the task force is defeated and Valua lives, or Aika lives, but Valua is effectively smashed, desecrating most of the population. YOU get to decide! By the way, this was posted on June 23rd (Meaning that the next update will be on July 9th.) Your choice on the outcome. Wow, that was a long author's note.


	7. To live as the Phoenix

**To live as the Phoenix**

"Move the forward end towards Valua and get them with a broadside. If we're lucky they'll try to dodge the guns and give us a firing solution with the moonstone cannon."

At a nod from the weaponry and navigation officers respectively the tasks were carried out.

"Yafutoman ships are gaining altitude. The are currently at a 35° angle from our guns."

Aika swore under her breath at the news. It wasn't that she hadn't expected it, but had prayed it wouldn't happen. While the Delphinus and several other ships in the New Valua armada could ascend to the same height as Yafutoman ships, many were older, more outdated models of magic ships who's redeeming qualities were magic cannons and a quick production rate.

"Continue climbing to their levels, and inform the gunners only to fire if they have a clear target lock. We can't afford to have the guns overheating if we have to leave some of our ships below us."

The communications officer took off his headset, glancing away from the data he had been observing in an attempt to hack the three ship's encryption for communication with one another. Looking directly at Admiral Aika e said, "Ma'am, magic ships and others incapable of following us are asking what they should do with themselves if they can be of no further help."

Aika closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think of anything that those ships _could_ do, save for killing themselves by standing still. A short salvo from the three ships above and those ships would be smashed into scrap metal, making the option of moving shields an impossibility. Raking her memory, she couldn't think of any of the ships having torpedoes, but still passed on a message of, "Tell those who have torpedoes to open fire with them and try to take out the nearest ship to them. Keep them from massing their fire together- they'll drift closer together and provide once huge target for the Yafutoman ships."

"Yes, ma'am." The officer said, returning to his position. Sighing slightly, the admiral could only wait as her ship went to join the same level as the Yafutoman's. Below her was an inferno as the country she was helping to rebuild was reduced back to the ruble that it had been after the rains of destruction- above her were a series of ships opening their guns up with destructive energy, a constant movement of pain, death, and flame that needed only a vessel to give off such evil energy. Glancing at the timer on the far wall that gave time until firing solutions, she saw that it read a further forty-five seconds. They would be the longest forty-five seconds of her life, and she knew it.

"Move, move, move!" the shouts made his head hurt, made him want them all to go away, made the metallic clicks of boots slamming the walls decking in a fair closeness to unison the worst sounds it was possible to hear. All around him the ground vibrated, reports slamming out of weapons left and right. Herrand tenderly opened an eye, shutting it just as quickly when he saw the blinding light of a noon sun.

Around the soldier lay bodies, weapons, chunks of stone, and- the most grotesque of all- a fair sized chunk of someone's small intestine. With a grimace he realized that it was his own.

He tried to sit up and found, not to his surprise, that he had no feeling in his legs. His spinal chord had probably been severed, or at the very least taken a severed beating.

"We got a live one!" someone called, running by in a white medical uniform, indicating someone near Herrand.

Another white uniform ran up to him, looking at the man as he coughed up blood, the droplets lost like teardrops in a crimson rain. White Uniform examined him critically for a few seconds, noting the locations of eight separate wounds, each at least the size of a man's fist.

The official promptly yanked the firearm from his belt and fired into the bloodied man, ending his life in an instant.

Looking down at the fair sized hole in his gut, Herrand chose not to speak up, merely lay there in the blood, looking up and watching as fire rained from sky.

Out of the corner of his eye, Herrand watched White Uniform and company's progress along the wall until they promptly evaporated in a blast of superheated air. More shots shook the wall, landing subsequently in a line, one that gradually moved towards Herrand.

The firing actually made sense. If the top of the wall could be taken out, then the upper guns from the massive wall firing at missiles and other projectiles headed for Valua would shake themselves loose from pure kickback and fall to the ground, further ruining the city. The gaping holes left behind would leave inviting targets for using the same strategy down the length of the wall.

Valua and its defenses had been built on the principal of simply destroying ships that it produced, and possibly the Nassarad's, but never the Yafutomans. As the folly was exposed, Herrand truly wished that someone had the decency to say 'hey, our defenses are about fifty years old! We should probably upgrade!"

As the shots continued to chip of stone and brick, Herrand closed his eyes, waiting for the inescapable moment when life would leave him. It didn't come. Quite abruptly the firing stopped, followed subsequently by loud booming noise.

"Status report- what was that? What just took that ship out?"

Still five seconds from entering effective firing range, a blast had rocked one of the Yafutoman ships, opening a gaping hole in the main cabin as well as the engine room. With groans of protest the propellers shut down and the massive dragon upon the ships bow dipped his head to deep sky, plunging for the last adventure.

"I'm not entirely certain, Admiral, but I think that it was one of the wall guns."

"Explain that," Aika replied, confused.

"These ships were implementing a strategy to break the wall up from the top down and shake out the guns, maybe for a later invasion with less expensive ships that are of Valua's range in maneuverability and altitudinal movement," the weapons officer replied, typing furiously at his console. "Now I'm not sure, but… Yes! One of the guns was ripped free by another's kickback. As it fell the automatic targeting system was still in effect. The gun was shooting an explosive magazine headed for the wall. The intercept point was altered as it fell, thus the shot ripped through the magazine round and intercepted ship that fired it."

As if it might be some help in explaining, the officer indicated surveillance footage he had just downloaded showing one of the guns falling back ward from the wall and firing at the same time.

"I hate to interrupt, ma'am, but we're in range."

"All guns, open fire! I want those ships in deep sky before they can even think about surrendering!"

Several seconds passed and the ship remained motionless.

"Why aren't we firing?"

"There's a slight issue on that front, ma'am. They've risen above our current altitudinal abilities. They've risen to where we can't follow."

Fire continued to rain down toward Valua, smashing homes, buildings, monuments, and people.

_Indeed, they rose where we can't follow and sunk to where we should never go._

A/n That's right, I ended it with a cliffhanger… again! Don't worry, those of you who might be, this isn't going to be one of those "Oh, end of the fic coming up! Somebody is suddenly in mortal peril! Sudden plot development to be completely and totally resolved in two sentences of the next chapter!" No, this sort of thing will be somewhat big and will show up later on. So yeah, those of you who thought I was dead and had stopped writing never to come back- I cleared the cobwebs off of my ficing! I just have been having a rather hectic freshmen year of high school, as well as band 3 hours or more 2-3 days a week (Sometimes on Saturdays when I try to remember to update ficing… grr!) So anyway, if there's a long gap, you needn't lose faith- I merely have way too much on my plate- Saith

I don't know how big- I have no clue what in the world I'm going to go on writing, I simply know of a few events that I will have come up and my two possible endings… which I will not tell you! MWAHAHA!


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